Stay With Me
by caityjoh3
Summary: John finds himself rushing back to 221B when Sherlock begins to send him alarming text messages, threatening his own life. Will John make it in time, or will it be too late for the Consulting Detective?


[To Lestrade] '_Baker Street, now. I think Sherlock's doing something stupid. JW'_

[To Sherlock] '_Sherlock, answer me. JW'_

John's phone vibrates in his hand.

'_It's not my note this time. I prefer to text, you know that. Goodbye John. SH_.'

John ignores the rush of busy London goers frantically pushing their way past 's fingers are typing recklessly, as if someone's life depended on it. Sherlock's.

'_No, Sherlock. You're not doing this again. Don't you dare. JW.'_

John looks up briefly before his eyes flutter to the screen again.

'_You can't leave me! JW.'  
_

John's heart rate accelerates as he flails his arms in hope of hailing the next cab.

[To Lestrade] '_Get there now! I think he's trying to kill himself! JW.'_

"This one's mine! You take the next one!" John yells at an elderly woman opening the door of the vehicle. He halts momentarily, comprehending his previous actions. "God, I sound like…"

The cabbie twists his body to face the doctor's. "Sorry?" he asks. John had forgotten about his friend, who could potentially be dead by now.

"Christ… Sherlock! Baker Street, now!" John's phone vibrates again.

'_John, it's about time you move on with your life, don't you think? They have been nothing but silly games. The game is over. SH'. _

John covers his mouth to restrain himself from crying, fixes his posture and replies.

'_No. Stop it. Stop this. You're not leaving me, not again. I can't live without you Sherlock, you hear? JW'._

John's fingers drum away on the door handle as he nervously awaits Sherlock's next reply. With each reply comes a longer interval, which makes John shift uncomfortably in his seat. "Are you alright?" The cabbie asks, eyebrow raised.

"Yes, of course why wouldn't I be?" John replies, his eyes never leaving the phone's screen. It finally vibrates.

_'You can live without me, John. You're better off without me. It was a mistake to become acquainted with you. My mistake. You had so much going for you, and I took it away. I am truly sorry, John. Forgive me. SH'._

John holds the phone in one hand and grips the car handle with his other. He's furious. The cabbie, ready to attempt conversation again, sees John's fuming facial expressions through his rear-view mirror and decides to keep quiet. It wouldn't take Sherlock to deduce that he was in no mood for a forced attempt at conversation. John began to text.

_'That is a load of bullshit, Sherlock and you know it. You GAVE me life, you are my life and without you I have nothing. You can't leave me alone…'_

John pauses. There is no time for delay, but he knows that these words have to be precise. A deep breath, followed by a single tear and John is composed enough to finish the text.

'_… You can't do that again. I love you, Sherlock. Without you I'm nothing. JW'. _

[Sent].

John's face is buried deep in his hands. He's right. Without Sherlock, John is nothing. The Doctor thinks back to the first case they solved together as a team, then the second, and third… John remembers every minor detail of every case, because Sherlock is there, standing beside him. No memory is obscure when Sherlock is there, like staring through glass windows. John begins to imagine future memories without his best friend… in short, he can't. Another text, almost double the time since the last.

'_I love you, John Watson. You will never be alone. SH'. _

No preparation or thought is needed from John with the following words.

'_I will be if you leave. JW'._

John thinks of nothing else while his fingers drum on his leg. "For God sakes, reply!" he exclaims. Realising the words were not in his head for once, he apologises to the cabbie. He finally recieves the reply.

'_John, please promise me something. Will you do something for me? SH.'_

[To Lestrade] '_BAKER STREET NOW! JW'._

John had heard that line before.

'_Sherlock, don't talk like that. Don't do this to me. JW'._

John was only a few blocks from Baker Street, but the slow moving traffic of London was putting him on edge. Another text.

'_Please, hear me out. SH'._

The ex-army doctor had heard this line once before as well, and he was damned if he was going to hear it again.

'_Sherlock Holmes, if you die, I die. JW'._

Sherlock's reply was almost instant.

'_John, no. Don't you dare. SH'._

John is nothing if he isn't vehement. His blood becomes hot and pulsating, and gravity feels a thousand times heavier, weighed down by his failure of duty to protect his best friend.

'_Don't YOU dare! I am not living without you. I refuse to, so if you go I'm coming! JW'. _

Sherlock's responses are slightly faster now, clearly knowing John is capable of following through on such a task, if he need to. John recieves the reply and can tell that Sherlock is ignoring his threat.

'_I need you to promise that you will never make the same mistakes that I did. That I have, and will again. John, sentiment is a chemical defect found in the losing side, but you must promise to wave a white flag of defeat when you have lost. Please. SH'._

John's face flushes to a rosy pink, only merely comprehending what he had just read. John is unaware that, through the tears, he is saying the words as he types.

'_The only thing I promise is my death, if you ask for it, and by killing yourself, that's exactly what you're doing. JW'._

John looks out of the cab window, to find that they are driving past St Bart's Hospital. On the roof, he can almost see Sherlock standing at the edge of the building. This entire situation was far too familiar to him. As Sherlock begins to fall, his phone vibrates again. He quickly glances back at the memorable building, and Sherlock is gone. "Not again," he mumbles to himself.

'_I would never wish such a thing on you, John. You mean far too much to me. SH'._

Baker Street isn't far now.

'_You are wishing it! You are wishing it as we speak! If I meant anything to you, you wouldn't be doing this! JW'._

[Sent].

John finally reaches Baker Street and jumps out of the cab. He races through the door and up the stairs. "Sherlock!" he shouts. He finds Sherlock lying on the floor of the living room. His sleeves are rolled above his elbows and syringes surround his body. He pants, and attempts to pull himself into a sitting position. John is by his side in seconds.

"Sherlock!" John exclaims, gasping at the sight of him. His cheekbones are shadowed abnormally dark, and his skin is blanched. "What did you do?" he asks frantically, sitting Sherlock up to check his pulse and pupils. "How many did you do?" he demands, breathing heavily, tears streaming down his cheeks.

"Only three, John," Sherlock whispers, before falling limp in John's arms. It was then that John notices the further 4 empty syringes behind where Sherlock was found lying.

"Christ, Sherlock!" John yells. "Why did you do that!" Still cradling his half-unconscious best friend, John takes out his phone to dial 999, explaining the situation as quickly as possible. Once finished, he hangs his phone up and looks down at Sherlock, who is slowly drifting in and out of consciousness. "Sherlock, stay with me," John directed.

Sherlock's vision is a hazy blur, but John seems to stay in constant focus. "I'm…" he breathes heavily, taking a deep breath before continuing. "I'm sorry, John. I didn't want you to get hurt". Sherlock, while in a moment of consciousness, lightly laughs to himself. John's face becomes impossibly saddened, and realising that it isn't an appropriate time to point out irony, Sherlock's face hardens. "In all honesty, John, this was supposed to be all to help you". Sherlock slipped back out of consciousness.

Tears are streaming down John's face as he holds Sherlock in his arms. "Sherlock!" he yells, shaking him back to consciousness. "Don't close your eyes, don't you dare," he demands, brushing away the sweaty curls from his face. "How the bloody hell was this supposed to help me? You being alive, with me, is all I'll ever need".

Sherlock looks into John's pained eyes. He knows then that John is right. The doctor would never cope without him. Sherlock is his best friend. A single tear slides down his cheek as he whispers "I thought that you would be better off without me. It's not true though". Sherlock locks his gaze on his best friend's glassy eyes. "I was wrong, wasn't I?" More and more tears begin to stream from the shaking man. The drugs are finally taking their toll.

John wipes away the tears that are falling down Sherlock's face. "You were so wrong, you bloody idiot," he sobs, "I couldn't live without you. I love you," he says, his voice cracking on the prominent word.

With his last ounce of energy, Sherlock reaches up, clutching John's face. Still shaking, he whispers "I couldn't live without you. You're my absolute everything. I love you, John". Sherlock presses his lips against the doctor's, where they seem to melt into each other. John is so caught up in the moment, he doesn't realise that the shaking has stopped, just as Sherlock's breathing has. John's heart begins to race, yelling for Sherlock to breathe.

"In here! Quickly!" a paramedic yells, who places an oxygen mask over Sherlock's hollow face. His features are so beautiful, yet so damaged. John backs away to let the following paramedics in to assist.

John stands at the doorway, silently sobbing as the paramedics place Sherlock's body onto a stretcher and carry him down the stairs. As he glances over, he sees Sherlock's arm dangling off the stretcher, and remembers back to the fall. This time, there was no villain to outsmart, or plan to follow. This was not fake. "Sherlock," John mutters to himself, knowing no one can hear. "Stay with me".


End file.
